Billy Jean, baby It's farewell
by PureSinner
Summary: Listen. Speak. Dance. Dazzle. Sparkle. Glitter. Smile. Laugh. Money. Fame. All for nothing in the end. All for nothing.


---- Billy Jean, baby. It's farewell -----

It's the scene.

The spray of colours, the dim lights and the camera drawn like magnet to his body.

He turns around very agilely and gracefully, like a silhouette in the night.

The black of his cloak and hat in contrast to his white, opened shirt.

He moves his body, dancing confidently

_Because in that moment,_

Being one with the beat of the music,

_In those seconds that will disappear like bubbles,_

His eyes closed in both anticipation and concentration,

_For he knew that the end could come in any of those seconds,_

And the beads of sweat rolling down his face,

_As well as he had only 5 minutes of his glory._

The show has started.

------ Mj ------

There is a scene.

There is a boy.

He looks so young.

And he is smiling.

Yes, a genuine and sincere smile spreads across his childlike face, giving 'a funny look' to his boyish features.

..._beat_...

-----Is----

There are cameras.

People.

There he is, a little much older than the last time.

His smile looks so innocent.

He walked around the scene, charming every soul and every person, claiming that place as 'his'.

For _he,_ was just a boy.

...beat...

---The---

The place has altered into a dark, eerie scene.

There is a boy-not-anymore, but a young man who joins the army of zombies and dances with them.

He leads them as he moves to the beat of the horrific 'Thriller' and still, he smiles.

_Are you dancing with them now?_

...beat...

---True---

There is a scene, yet again.

There are people, masses and crowds of music lovers who came to enjoy just one piece of music heaven.

One piece of a dream that will stop the next morning when they wake up and face reality once again.

For life was very realistic, very painful.

And just as he stepped on the platform, a blinding sparkle of light and the fire that burned in the sky [_and in their hearts for long, long after_] made him go down that night.

A piece of heaven turned into Shakespeare's drama in one moment. One nanosecond of life.

_Why is life so unfair?_

...beat...

---King---

There's a mass of people yet again.

There are cameras too.

It's a sunny spring day.

But not for MJ, not for _you_.

His face hidden behind the huge black [because it was _**blackblack**_-darkish] umbrella, he still smiles, somehow, anyhow-

**But knowing that smile ain't real, is it even worth the effort to place it on your face?**

All the glory that the night brought was flushed away by the first splinters of a sunny day.

_Why are people like that?_

----Of----

There are people, yeah.

[Ain't they always there?]

There's the press.

There are the cameras.

Hallelujah, baby. _Hallelujah_.

He with a soul that carries light no more, smiles, he starts to speak, but he stops, enjoying the way his words reflected on the mass of people who were there through his whole life, and he sees… Yes, he sees, reflected on a wall, an image of a boy who sang, who smiled, who knew nothing about the _real_ life.

And so he _smiles_, along with him.

He tells those people the words that he didn't know would be his last for them.

He leaves the scene, not knowing it'll be the last time he'll leave.

For he was already tied unto the leash of darkness long ago.

In every step that he took, he was closer to death itself.

Why can we foresee the things that will happen to us?

_Why can we feel our own death getting closer to us?_

...beat...

--- Pop. ---

There is no scene this time.

There is no Press and no people either.

There is a room.

There is a man on the bed, his pulse weaker and weaker by every passing second.

Everything about him-

Everything to him-

_Was destroyed._

The light of his once alive soul was long ago turned off. _Just like that._

Wind it was.

Wind of life.

**Time**.

Failures and successes perhaps.

Everything about him has shown a broken man.

But if someone-

Anyone-

Could've looked close enough-

They could've seen the sadness in his eyes-

His sorrow-

And in the depths of them,

Somewhere, smiling

Grinning,

Singing,

And still dancing to the sweet beat of the music.

[He_ was a boy. Only a little boy. Why? I ask you, why?_]

There was the stage.

There was the crowd.

There was the Press.

And among them, shining from innocence and happiness,

On the gold-glittering stage,

There was a boy.

He stopped once, to take a long, lasting look forward

And then,

The boy,

Closed his eyes

Forever.

.....................

________________________________________________________________________

Personal view over Michael Jackson's death. For all of those who have actually read it, thank you. Thank you for understanding the feelings in it [if you could].

The '...beat...' and '......' in the end means every beat of his heart and in the end, the heart that dies.

Sure, he was called names, and people considered him bad, but look deep into your heart for a while and do tell what bad he did, for he did much more of good.

The rest, the discussion, the opinions, the flames, and the good & bad critics I'll leave up to you, my dear readers.

This,

This shall be my final farewell to the man who changed the course of music.

Thank you Michael, and may you rest in piece as a boy that you once were.

A boy that was forced to grow up in a harsh reality.

Farewell, my friend

[Thank you.]


End file.
